RaBB verse: Making a Point
by authoressnebula
Summary: Sequel to Point of Contact. Inspired by and written for the wonderful Phx: After the run in with the Benders, Dean's already feeling over-protective. Then, they run across a few familiar faces from eight years ago.


When Sam stood up, Dean only half stood with him. Sam turned back, frowning for a moment before he raised knowing eyebrows. "Dean, it's the _bathroom_. I'll be fine, okay?"

"Sure you will," Dean said, but still settled back onto the barstool with some reluctance. "Because you're taking your cell phone with you."

"I thought you weren't going to come after me again," Sam said, and the smirk on his face made Dean simultaneously annoyed and proud.

"I'm not. Because you'll call before you can get taken anywhere." Dean waved his hand towards the bathroom. "Go, I'll be here."

Sam took a step in the bathroom's general direction, before turning back to Dean. "You, uh, wanna follow me in?"

Dean made a face and turned back to his beer bottle. "Dude. Gross. Unless you need me to show you how to use the bathroom again..."

"I'll be right back, Dean," Sam said, and his smirk had faded into a soft smile. Dean merely rolled his eyes and took a long swig from the bottle, but even as Sam headed off, Dean still watched him out of the corner of his eye. The door swung shut behind him, and Dean hung his head a little.

Stupid freakin' hillbillies, kidnapping his little brother. Dean really _really_ hated people sometimes. Like the creatures and crap they hunted weren't bad enough, but humans had to try their hand at it? Hunting other humans down like animals, tearing apart their corpses for trophies? It made Dean shudder and turn back to view the bathroom door. No Sam, but it wasn't swinging as if someone else had opened it, and no one else was anywhere near it.

He turned back to his drink, wincing and nursing his shoulder briefly. He didn't do it when Sam was around, because despite all his teasing, Sam still obviously felt guilty for letting his guard down and, as a result, getting Dean hurt. Even though it wasn't Sam's fault in the slightest, and it wasn't like Sam hadn't been in danger, either. Or worse danger. Hot poker to the shoulder or even the eye wouldn't kill you.

A bullet to the head would.

"Dean? Like, Dean _Winchester_?"

Dean frowned and glanced behind him. Five guys shorter than him with hanging guts were coming forward, and Dean's frown deepened as he tried to place them. They were glaring at him, but that didn't really help place them. There were a _lot_ of people that were probably going to glare at him, all for various reasons, but he couldn't remember when he'd pissed off five people-

"The midget's older brother, right?" one of them sneered. "Should've known by the jacket; I remember the jacket. Remember _us_ now?"

Oh. _Oh_. Dean instantly stiffened, not for himself but for Sam. He really hated people sometimes, and here were another five prime reasons why. Memories of Sam lying in the tall grass, small and hurt and cold, flashed through his mind, and his hand tightened on his beer bottle. Dean had let them off easy, because when it came to things hurting innocents, there was little to decide in Dean's mind as to which side he was on.

And when it came to others hurting Sam...there was no question. Dean was definitely biased where the kid was concerned.

"Oh yeah, I remember you," Dean replied coolly. "Hard to forget the highlight of pinning you five bastards to the flagpole. Fun times," he added with a hard smirk, staring at them all. The five big bullies that had taken his little brother down looked pathetic now. They hadn't gotten much taller from how tall they'd been in high school, but they'd certainly grown out. Beer guts, most of them, in their early twenties. They all wore ratty, 'cool' tops, shorts that did nothing for them, and the two that wore jeans weren't doing themselves any favors, either. Their hair was limp, and one of them was already balding.

His words only pissed them off more, as Dean had guessed. "Where's the shrimp now, huh?" one of them asked, and the others laughed. "Still hiding behind his big brother's skirts? C'mon, where's itty bitty Sammy?"

"Someone looking for me?"

All five turned on cue, and Dean smirked for real as their jaws dropped. All five heads had to tilt back to look Sam in the face as he stood tall above them, a knowing, tight grin on his face. He glanced over their heads briefly to Dean, who merely raised his eyebrows before turning back to his beer. Sam could handle this however he wanted to.

Dean had already gotten his justice eight years ago. He really should've thought to take pictures, but his only real thought then had been to make them all realize that messing with Dean's little brother was a _bad_ idea.

"_Dude_," one of them breathed, and Dean began to chuckle softly into his beer. Sam _was_ a tall guy, and at this point, the image of the five of them looking up to his not-so-little little brother was akin to five chihuahua puppies looking up at a full grown Great Dane.

"Hi guys," Sam said cheerfully, and Dean could _feel_ the five assholes jump behind him. Dean had to bite his lip to keep his chuckles from turning to full out laughs. This was Sam's show: he'd let the kid run it for now. Later, he'd get his laughs.

"You guys want to join us? We were just going to order an appetizer of shrimp. I remember how much you enjoy breaking their shells open," and even if Dean hadn't heard the edge in his brother's voice, he still would've frozen and stopped laughing at the words. The wording was too precise, like a memory repeated over and over, and Dean was suddenly biting his lip for another reason, anger replacing humor in a split moment. This was Sam's deal, Sam's demons to cleanse, and if Dean interfered now, he'd do more harm than good.

But damn if he didn't want to turn around and punch them all. _Again_.

"N-Nah, we, uh, gotta get going," one of them replied shakily. "But, uh, good seeing you, eh, man! Take care, of, uh," and the sound of feet shuffling away followed the trailed off sentence. Dean didn't relax until the sounds were gone for good, and the main door shut and stayed shut for some time.

Footsteps, solid with no shuffling, made their way until Sam sat back down beside Dean at the bar. "You okay?" Dean couldn't help but ask. Only so long he could hold back his big brother instincts, and he'd held them back long enough to induce a chick-flick moment, but he didn't care at this point.

Sam let out a deep sigh and hung his head. "A little," he said quietly, and the big, imposing, strong man he'd heard a moment ago was long gone. If Dean stared long and hard enough, the twenty-two year old brother faded into a tinier fourteen year old, uncertain and tired and a little bit scared.

Good thing Dean knew how to help that little brother, had known since Sam had come home at four with scraped knees and tear filled eyes and a story about the neighborhood bully.

Dean swiveled his bar stool towards his brother. Sam still had his eyes locked on his bottle, fingers picking at the label damp with condensation. "You got to show them that you weren't someone to bully," Dean pointed out.

"They looked afraid of me," Sam replied, finally raising his eyes to meet Dean's. "I felt like the bully, Dean. Like they'd been all those years ago, and I-"

"That was _not_ bullying, Sam," Dean said firmly. "That was freakin' _assault_. And trust me, they got what was coming to them."

Sam gazed at him long and hard, before a small smile finally appeared. "Dean Winchester justice, huh?"

"Damn straight," Dean answered with hesitation. Sam's smile widened a little, and Dean grinned. "I can't believe I'm going to say it, and I'm only gonna say it once, but I'm actually glad you're taller than me." Not that it made him any safer from crazy hillbillies, but...

Sam picked up his bottle and slid off the stool. "I kinda wished for it, you know. To be taller than you. So I'm glad you're okay with it."

Even with Sam giving him a taunting grin, Dean had no doubt that the words were true, and decided to not let his brother know that he'd wished for the exact same thing that evening on the football field. "I knew it," he said, glaring without heat at Sam. "I freakin' _knew it_. You little bitch."

"Watch who you're calling 'little'," Sam reminded him, giving a laugh when Dean reached out and smacked his arm. Dean snagged his beer bottle as Sam headed for the door, and even though Sam rolled his eyes, Dean still stepped outside first and looked around. The five idiots weren't waiting for them, and there were no campers anywhere nearby.

"Is the coast clear?" Sam asked sarcastically, but the smile he gave told Dean he understood why. Knew Dean was fiercely protective and couldn't help it. It was what a big brother did, after all.

Dean stepped aside and let Sam step outside. They were in the car a moment later, and heading down back to the hotel.

Dean kept his response to Sam's question silent and to himself, though he had no doubt that Sam already knew the answer. _As long as I'm around, it will be._

END


End file.
